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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25027324">Downhill Fast</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunder_Cakes/pseuds/Thunder_Cakes'>Thunder_Cakes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, SamSteve Vacation Week, Soft Boys, The Wilson Siblings, back on my fluff bullshit, tooth aching sweetness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:53:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,026</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25027324</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunder_Cakes/pseuds/Thunder_Cakes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The annual Wilson Family Vacation is going great. Vermont wouldn't have been Sam's first choice but he's not mad at it. He hasn't thought about work in days, wakes up every morning to a fresh layer of snow and, as annoying as their parents are, it's always good to spend time with his nieces and nephews. All in all, its looking up to be an easy, relaxing week. </p>
<p>That is until a certain ski instructor smiles at him. </p>
<p>Now if only Sam could stop wiping out in front of him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SamSteve Vacation Week</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Downhill Fast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Unbeta'd so pls forgive the inevitable typos</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sam stares down into his cup of hot chocolate, trying to erase the day’s events from his mind. His family laughs and jokes around him, debating which board game to break out next, but Sam barely hears them. He tries to redirect his brain to focus on the conversation, but instead it replays one of his more epic wipeouts from the afternoon. He’s so wrapped up in berating his own foolishness, he misses the conversation turning to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-not even paying attention. Sam. Sammy. Samuel!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?” he looks up, barely tuning in enough to hear his sister calling him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ready to gang up on the children in Black Card Revoked?” Sarah goads, shaking the box of cards at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam stutters, trying to pull himself back into the moment. Game Night is usually his favorite part of their annual family vacation. He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m just not feeling it tonight, y’all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kids around the coffee table whine in protest, begging their Uncle Sam to come play with them. His mother eyes him from the armchair, but says nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw Sammy it wasn’t that bad! So you busted your ass in front of the hot instructor a few hundred times. That’s his job! Shake it off, man. I’m sure it happens all the time!” Gideon slaps him on the back, well aware that he’s not actually helping. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ignoring his brother’s snickering, Sam shakes his head and sets his mug down. “It's just been a weird day. I’m gonna go stretch my legs.” His exit isn’t as swift or graceful as he’d like since his nieces have buried him under about a hundred of the resort’s blankets. He drops a kiss on his mother’s forehead as he passes and shuffles to the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They didn’t get enough stretching with all the twisting and spraining you did today?” Sarah asks, eyes wide with phony innocence. Gideon hoots a laugh, louder than the jab deserves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fu--” Sam remembers the kids, and gives his siblings a covert finger instead. He grabs his shoes and coat and ducks out of the room before his mother or the kids can protest. The hotel door shuts firmly behind him and the sudden silence is a balm on his nerves. Sam loves his family, would burn the world down for them, but it's been three days of playtime and snowshoes and banter and he just needs a break. Air, he decides. He needs air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, every hall in this resort looks exactly the same and he has no idea how to get out. He takes a deep breath, picks a direction and starts to wander. The monotony of tan doors and aggressively patterned carpet is just starting to make his eye twitch when he stumbles upon a glass doorway to an outdoor porch. A plaque by the door implies the large balcony is for smokers but it’s empty at the moment so he takes advantage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There isn’t much to the porch itself; just a few wide tables lined with concrete benches. The air is brisk, but a couple outdoor space heaters keep the chill from settling in. All of which is secondary to the view. The snow covered mountains almost glow blue in the moonlight, rising above and around the resort’s grounds. There are more stars in the sky than he’s ever seen, filled with bright new constellations to discover and research. Sam climbs onto one of the benches, sitting on the wide slab table and leaning back on his hands to better appreciate the view. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a few minutes there he’s at peace, staring up at what feels like a brand new night sky. He’s wondering what the view is like from the top of the mountain when he’s hit with the memory of busting his ass on said slope just hours ago. Right in front of the gorgeous ski instructor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam groans and puts his head in his hands. How did he manage to embarrass himself so thoroughly in so little time? He’s new to skiing yes, but he’s not uncoordinated. He was actually a respectable athlete at one point in his life, thank you very much. That point was ten years ago, but still! He should be able to stay upright longer than his eight year old nephew. If he’s being honest with himself, it probably had less to do with the stilts strapped to his feet and more to do with the way Steve’s smile made his knees go weak. Sam sighs from the depth of his soul. Something about the man just threw him off his game and he could never quite catch his footing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not that he’s gorgeous, that was expected. The buff, blonde, charmer is exactly what movies told Sam a ski instructor would look like. Sam will be dreaming about those shoulders for weeks, but that’s not what stopped him in his tracks and made him trip over his skis. Steve was just so… kind. He was bubbly and enthusiastic without being grating, encouraging but never condescending, laughing along with both the kids’ corny jokes and Sarah’s dry sarcasm. He met each of the Wilsons where they were, easily jumping from openly praising the children to goading Gideon’s competitive side, while keeping an eye on Sarah’s grumpy mumbling as she tried to figure things out on her own. Steve bounced between them with ease. At least, until it came to Sam. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking back, Sam knows he wasn’t the only one affected. Every time their eyes met, Steve was suddenly awkward, though equally genuine. Together they were stuttering sentences and lingering looks. Sam could barely get a word out without choking on his tongue, eyes lingering on the arch of Steve’s cheekbone or the way his snowsuit clung to his thighs. Okay, so maybe some of it was that he’s ridiculously gorgeous. Steve would turn from cheering on one of the kids, meet Sam’s gaze, eyes as bright as the stars Sam’s watching now. Something about the joy in Steve’s eyes at the smallest victories settled in Sam’s stomach and shoved him to his knees. Literally. He can feel the bruises forming now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then it was his turn for a one-on-one lesson and suddenly Steve’s hands were everywhere. Adjusting his posture at the shoulders, guiding his hands to the right position on the poles, pushing at the back of his knees until he was almost squatting over his skis. At one point, Steve stood behind him, put his hands on Sam’s hips and turned them slightly. He was saying something about Sam needing to shift his weight to turn but Sam was too busy staring directly ahead and trying to smother the heat out of his face to hear him. He didn’t breathe again until Steve stepped back, and when the blood finally stopped rushing in his ears, the first thing he heard was his siblings tittering off to the side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More than once they motioned him forward, encouraging him to make a move but Sam never budged. The man was at work! Hitting on people when they can’t escape is creepy and weird and Sam absolutely refused to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>that guy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Besides, he had no idea if Steve was into him. Maybe all the blushing and stuttering was because Sam was so obviously into him and it made him uncomfortable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam shakes the thought away and turns back to the stars. It doesn’t matter. He didn’t sign up for any more lessons and they leave in three days. It’s a big resort, he’ll probably never have to face Steve again anyway. He tries to ignore the little pang in his chest at the thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam’s barely pushed it away before the patio door behind him opens. He turns to catch the new person in his periphery and freezes. Steve. Of course it is. And he’s looking directly at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, hi.” Sam winces at the way his voice breaks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiles. “Hi Sam.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my god he knows my name</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sam could smack himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The fuck? Am I fourteen? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’s so mortified by his own thought he almost misses Steve’s next words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“May I join you?” he asks, motioning to the empty space beside Sam. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh yeah, sure. I mean, of course!” He goes to shuffle his belongings to make room, but he didn’t actually bring anything, so he’s really just dusting off the spot with his hands. Embarrassed, he tucks his hands under his thighs and makes himself hold still. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t seem to notice, passing over a thermos and pulling out two ceramic mugs from a bag Sam didn’t realize he had. “Hot chocolate?” he offers. Sam nods enthusiastically and takes the cup, wrapping both hands around it to soak up the warmth. Steve fills both cups, tilting his own for a toast before they both take tentative sips. Their eyes meet over the rims of their mugs and the crinkle of smile lines around Steve’s sends Sam’s heart into a frenzy. The flicker of warm light from the heaters dance across Steve’s face, just as striking as the moonlight on the snow. Sam forces himself to look away and back up at the stars. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Steve sat down, Sam fully expected to be awkward. And it’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>awkward. But Sam’s kind of enjoying it. The worry he’ll say the wrong thing, the swoop in his stomach every time their eyes meet, the anticipation of what will happen next. He hasn’t felt like this in a long time. He likes it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The sky is beautiful here,” Sam murmurs. Something about this moment makes him feel like flying. He can almost feel it, the wind on his face, the hum of machinery on his back and the laughter of a friend in his ears. Sam shakes the thought away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Another life</span>
  </em>
  <span>, his mother would call the rare memories of a life unlived. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is,” Steve agrees, not looking at the sky. He takes Sam’s now empty mug, leaning to put them both back in his bag.The movement shifts him closer to Sam. Neither of them move away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Steve settles back into his seat, his hand lands just next to Sam’s. After a moment’s hesitation, their hands brush, once, twice, a third time before their fingers intertwine. Steve’s palm is still warm from the hot chocolate, a stark contrast to the cool air around them. A gentle tug pulls Sam down to lay back on the table with Steve. They lay on their backs, touching only at the hand and gaze up at the stars. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re silent apart from the thunderous beating of Sam’s heart, and even that quiets after awhile. Steve’s thumb brushes down the side of Sam’s. A bright eyed owl sails overhead. Only the occasional ding of the elevator just inside the hall disrupts the facade of solitude. They stay there for a while, breathing the cold air and watching the stars twinkle over the snow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, though neither could tell you exactly how much time has passed, Sam forces himself to sit up. Steve follows slowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam climbs off the table but Steve doesn’t let go. Their eyes meet and hold each other for a minute before Steve nods. Silently, hands still entwined, they head back inside. Steve walks Sam to his family’s suite, stopping at the door. He brings Sam’s hand to his lips and places a soft kiss to Sam’s knuckles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight,” he whispers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight,” Sam breathes, turning to swipe his card in the door. When he glances over his shoulder for one last look, Steve is already gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside their suite, Sam’s family is already fast asleep. He tiptoes past the kids on the pull out couch and creeps into the room he’s sharing with his sister. A quick change of clothes in the dark and a silent slide into the wide bed trick Sam into thinking he’s gotten away with it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you at least get laid?” Sarah’s groggy yet smug voice comes from the other side of the mattress. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam snorts but doesn’t bother responding, instead rolling onto his back and holding his still warm hand to his heart. </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sam got laid. But like, emotionally</p>
<p>Find someone who makes you feel fourteen again. If only for a day.</p>
<p>Check out the other SamSteve Vacation Week works too! Our boys deserve!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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